


Chapstick Covered On the Lips Waiting to Be Kissed

by Foophile



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, M/M, Oral Fixation, Pretty Boys, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-10 14:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foophile/pseuds/Foophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael’s always ‘the pretty one’. Kink: Oral Fixation</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapstick Covered On the Lips Waiting to Be Kissed

Michael’s used to being called pretty. A surprising number of women, once they find out that he’s gay, throw around the word like his preference for men magically erases the dick between his legs. To them, he becomes a member of the girl’s club. And girls are pretty.

It’s nothing to hire a psychologist over. He doesn’t particularly like it, would rather be called handsome or attractive or just simply _Michael_ , but he realizes that some people have a very limited vocabulary. To be exact, they call him pretty because they think that he does things to stay pretty. Another myth of the gay man. An occasional manicure before a big meeting with a multi-million dollar client and a new tailored suit every once in a while are not Michael’s ideas of extravagant pampering.

Not after watching his big brother’s beauty rituals.

Lincoln started shaving his head at an early age, before he even dropped out of high school, and his big brother quickly learned that a shorn scalp needed maintenance. Michael watched the highly amusing experiments with baby oil (that made his head shine like a cue ball and burn like bacon in the sunlight) and petroleum jelly (which clogged his pores and made his head break out) until Lincoln came home one day with an expensive moisturizing lotion specifically for bald men that he stole from a department store downtown.

“They’ve got matte and glossy finishes, Mikey,” Lincoln said that day with a wink.

It was called ‘HeadLube’ and through some miracle Michael kept his mouth shut, even when he found the matching exfoliating scrub later that day in his brother’s sock drawer. But that was only because it made Lincoln smell like chocolate.

From there, as Lincoln made more money doing whatever illegal activities he did, there came the gym, the spa, monthly tanning sessions, manly manicures, and even waxing.(Chest only, because Lincoln just _has_ to show off his perfectly sculpted pecs by never buttoning the collar of his shirt, ever - rain or shine, artic winter.)

But despite the expensive upkeep, no one dares to call Lincoln pretty or even mention the word “metro sexual”. The criminal record might have something to do with it. According to Lincoln, his regimen is a perk of the job, a way for him to enjoy the little things.

Michael’s always ‘the pretty one’.

He’s already done the whole Dr. Phil thing on the issue: Figured that Lincoln’s guilt over his illegal lifestyle makes him want to look like something more than the stereotypical criminal. Or that Lincoln just really wants to impress women.

Either way, he’s never called bullshit on the many ways his brother pampers himself until the ‘lip balm’ phase begins when he's in college.

And at first, it’s not a big thing. Again, nothing to call a shrink over. But what sticks in Michael’s craw is that Lincoln won’t admit to it like he’s fessed up to everything else. There’s always some lame ass excuse, like he expects Michael to believe that there’s a chick around with lip gloss on who’s willing and eager to make out with Lincoln every minute of the day.

His brother’s attractive but he’s not _that_ good-looking.

Then as time goes by, it gets distracting. Whatever Lincoln buys it’s not the generic Chapstick that most men use that’s lusterless and has no scent. This stuff is a little shiny and smells like cinnamon and makes his brother’s lips look wide and damn near pouty. And Lincoln’s always licking it off, like even _he_ can’t believe he tastes so good.

Even when it’s not on Lincoln licks his lips to compensate, so much so that Michael starts to dream about his brother’s pink tongue going over his glossy bottom lip like an LL Cool J video on loop.

That balm becomes the ultimate torture. Michael thinks about it in class. Wonders what it really tastes like when he’s walking to his dorm room. Tries not to stare whenever Lincoln takes him out to dinner.

Then, finally, Michael catches him putting it on in the car. It’s freezing outside and he can see Linc waiting for him across his dorm’s parking lot. As he approaches, Lincoln fiddles with something in his jacket then he pulls out a little tube and applies that horrible gloss to his mouth.

The lot’s lights catch on the sheen and Michael’s hard as a rock before he even opens the car door.

Lincoln looks up when Michael yanks open the door, manages a “Hey” before Michael’s tripping into the car, pulling the door closed, and leaning over the gearshift to smash their lips together.

He’s honestly been a little afraid to kiss him; in case the dream didn’t live up to the reality, but Lincoln’s mouth is slick, warm, and a little spicy. His lips are incredibly soft and a moan escapes from Michael’s throat at the same time that he decides that he loves whatever it is, gloss, balm, or alien torture device.

Lincoln’s chuckling, pushing him back by his shoulders. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?” Michael wonders before he realizes that he doesn’t really care. “No, shut up.” There’s still some balm in the corner of Lincoln’s lip and he crowds back in, sucks there trying to get all of the flavor.

Michael barely stifles the whine when Lincoln separates them yet again. In the dark Lincoln’s bright smile flashes.

“You like my lips. I wondered if you’d notice.”

Michael wants to smack him, after he kisses him dizzy. He really should have known that Lincoln was teasing him.

“Of course I noticed. Been the only thing I could think about lately.” This time, he stops himself from attacking, licks his own lips to get his momentary fix of cinnamon sweet. Michael watches his brother’s eyes follow the motion and grins. “Wait, were you waiting for me to compliment you or something? Want me to say that you look pretty?”

His brother’s eyes dart away and Michael almost crows in delight. He kisses his cheek delicately, like he would a girl. It’s certainly soft enough.

Lincoln’s fast, turns his head and grabs Michael by the nape for a proper kiss. He renders Michael breathless and mutters, “Fuck you.”

“Only if you put that mouth to good use. God, you’ve been torturing me forever.”

Michael pulls him closer and wishes they weren’t in the car so that he could feel the weight of his brother’s body pressing into him. His cock is aching for attention and he guides Lincoln’s hand to the bulge in his pants, mewls when his hot flesh is pulled into the cool of the car.

All of his brother’s gloss is gone but Michael can’t stop sucking on his soft, soft lips. Lincoln doesn’t mind if the grunts he’s making are any indication.

The car windows fog up with their heat and Michael can hear students passing by outside, their voices receding as they go back to the dorms. He would care a lot more if Lincoln wasn’t perfectly working his cock in his tight fist and biting at his mouth until its feels swollen and numb.

They’re both tugging at clothes, Michael’s pants and boxers, Lincoln’s jacket so that Michael can taste the skin in the gap of his shirt. Michael’s pushed against the passenger door, long legs twisted and spread awkwardly when Lincoln dips down to take his cock into his mouth.

Michael chokes when Lincoln stops, just hovers there breathing on his cock.

“I’ve only been wearing it for two weeks.”

It takes Michael a second to focus then he jerks angrily. “Oh fuck, whatever, Linc. Just…” He chokes again when there’s a teasing lick, whines when it seems like that’s all that’s coming.

Michael can _feel_ his brother smile against his skin then can’t think anymore as he sinks past soft lips into the furnace of his mouth. The dome of Lincoln’s skull fits perfectly in his hand and the stubble feels like velvet.  
__

Of course, now that Lincoln knows how Michael reacts, he uses the damn gloss all the time. Seems to lick his lips even more.

Michael really doesn’t appreciate it when they’re out in public. It’s hard enough to find the control when they have a little privacy.

“Please stop licking your lips.”

Lincoln’s eyes are innocent, his smirk is not. “They’re dry.”

“I hate you.”

“I make you hot.”

“Well you are the prettiest girl on the block, Linc.”

END


End file.
